I would sit at the table, at one of the plastic chairs, and just open my senses.We had listened to the piano concertos together, me on my porch with m... coffee, Tim in his kitchen with his rosemary foccaccia. We had enjoyed a sampling of the symphonies — the 33rd with its clever little ending that had matched so perfectly the sound of Tim closing the oven door as he brought out the last of his three loaves of bread that day; the 41st and last with its magnificent, spine-tingling chords.I could. With each passing minute the prospects grew dimmer like the slowly setting sun through the window shades. Had she even seen my note? If so, why wasn't there a reply?Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door and I jumped up to answer it. As I opened the door I could feel everything bubbling up inside me with anticipation.Wow! Was she a sight, wearing this off-the-shoulder white dress with wide straps that crossed in front, widening enough to barely encompass her breasts. Her arms crossed in. More

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